


not today, maybe tomorrow.

by wanderlustt



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Seteth knows everything 8), Setleth, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustt/pseuds/wanderlustt
Summary: Dimitri. Claude. Edelgard.The paths are cyclical. Inevitable. Seteth knows the history of you and is content watching it unfold from a distance away.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 17
Kudos: 96





	not today, maybe tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ojidri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ojidri/gifts).



> told in second person pov because it felt more fitting. :)

Seteth knows.

He _knows_ you’ll choose Dimitri first. He knows you’ll see something in him—some broken darkness worthy of unraveling, dissecting, and fixing. Seteth knows because you’ve chosen his house, because you’ve made yourself at home in a den of eager Blue Lions—but that’s a surface-level triviality. He knows because of the way you look at _him_ , like you adore him (because you do), like he’s the only treasure in this world worthy of your effort and attention.

You’ll live a full life with Dimitri—and Seteth will watch from a distance as you rebuild the kingdom of Faerghus from dust, fall in love, and sire his children for years to come. Your life with Dimitri may begin in Garreg Mach, but it truly, _truly_ begins when the last vestiges of the empire are extinguished. When you retire your Sword of the Creator and pick up a wet nurse instead. When you marry Dimitri under the empty gaze of Seiros's statue in the church. When you settle into your new post as both a mother and a queen.

He'll help you recount your days from thereon: there are meetings to attend, hands to shake, and plans to make for Fodlan. The restoration of the church is a full-time job, and though you make no qualms about your new responsibilities, he can tell you’re tired.

So at night, when he finds you've fallen asleep in your study, face buried in your arms, he covers you with your cloak and waits for dawn to break before he wakes you from your slumber.

You don’t thank him because you don’t notice—and that’s OK. He’s perfectly content watching you from a distance, even if it means that space between you will never close.

He rests easy because you'll live a long and fruitful life, and when he’s ready to pass, he knows he’ll have done so leaving the world a better place than he found it.

*

Claude is next.

And you’re happier for what it’s worth, even when he makes you a promise and rides off on his wyvern to a land far, far away.

Happy is an _apt_ description, Seteth thinks—if Dimitri is your fulfillment, then Claude is your joy. You smile more, laugh more—he even catches you twinkling at the very mention of his name. He doesn't think he's ever seen a person twinkle, but you do, and it takes him a while to realize he's holding his breath.

 _Exhale_.

He shares more time with you in this life. You eat your meals together, fish together for leisure, and watch the sun set into dusk waiting for a wyvern in the sky that won’t come.

“Not today,” you’ll tell him with a sad little smile.

He repeats after you, and joins you when you take your usual spot on the roof of Garreg Mach. “Perhaps tomorrow,” he replies, and holds out on the hope that Claude may not return at all. _Not today, maybe not tomorrow either._

Your conversation on the rooftop slowly becomes a ritual and Seteth learns to count the days you share with him, all the while doing his best to ignore the flutter in his stomach when he sees you smile in hope at the sky.

Because Claude doesn’t show up today or tomorrow, which means he can pretend he has a lifetime and more to share with you.

(He’s wrong.

Claude always returns. Even when the hour is darkest.)

In the nick of time, always, when the last pillars of the empire are marching up the gates of Garreg Mach in a surprise attack.

He ushers you to the sacred tomb after you unearth the Sword of the Creator from the depths of your bedroom. It’s the safest place to hide, and though you’re no coward, you also understand now that you have reason to live. All of Fodlan is depending on you. _Your survival is their survival_. Had it been five years earlier, you might’ve fought him on this.

Vehemently.

"This is where I leave you, professor," he says. "I'll be minding the door. You know where the hidden exit is, so if I give you the word, _run_." And there's no doubt in his mind that he will give you the word. It's inevitable.

You’re older now, perhaps a bit wiser, and when you nod in understanding it surprises even him.

Seteth takes his axe and promises he’ll be back, but you grab his hand.

He stops.

You give him a squeeze of reassurance. “Don’t die on me,” you say, and he notices your voice is a bit softer now. A bit more trusting. Being around Claude is a good influence, he thinks, studying your face—you’re a bit more expressive, a bit less cautious, and a bit more understanding.

He squeezes your hand back and a blush kisses your cheeks. _That is a blush, isn't it?_ “I won’t," he says, and tries to remind himself you've already made a promise to another man.

Seteth is ready to die for you, but he doesn’t get far into the halls of Garreg Mach because Claude has arrived.

A man of timing through and through -- and when the wyverns in the sky descend upon the steps of Fodlan, Seteth knows he can breathe easy.

You run into Claude's arms and he feels a wave of relief wash over him. _You’ll live to see another day_ , but more than that—you’ll be happy in your days thereafter, always and forevermore. Between Almyra and Fodlan, you learn to split your time between two kingdoms and two different sets of duties. He sees less and less of you each day, but he knows you’re happy and maybe, he thinks, that’s all he really needs to know.

Still, he touches his hand and wonders when the flutter in his stomach will wane.

*

Edelgard is always last.

He knows how this story goes: it’s the same every time. You’ll join her in Enbarr to play witness at her secret coronation; her army will march up the road to Garreg Mach, and soon you’ll be marching through Fodlan with the imperial army in the name of reformation and change. Your students will not escape the tragedy of war—and neither will Flayn nor him.

He never forgives you. _He’ll never forgive what you’ve done_.

But still, the hands of time go on and he’ll watch you until he takes his last breath. You’re the last thing he’ll see before he closes his eyes -- and that look of anguish on your face does little to relieve him of his rage.

He'll die hating you.

But that's OK too.

*

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself in another timeline somewhere far, _far_ away. _Rinse, repeat, redo_. Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard. _Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard. Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard, and Flayn._ He’ll wake up and do it all over again, always and forevermore.

You choose Edelgard again.

 _No_ , he thinks, _this can’t be_ —the timelines are cyclical. Always. It begins with Dimitri, follows with Claude, and Edelgard is always last.

 _It should’ve been Dimitri again_ , but it isn’t.

*

Naturally, it comes as somewhat of a surprise when he runs into you at the goddess tower the night of the ball, where you’ve taken to hiding from the legion of students who are lined up to dance with you. “Forgive me,” he says, with far more trepidation than he intends. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait—”

You grab his hand and he has a moment of knowing so profound— _that moment you grabbed his hand in the sacred tomb_. And then you ask him.

“Am I making the right decision?”

He blinks, wondering if he’s heard you right—if you really mean what he thinks you mean. But with that look of perpetual indifference on your face, he can't tell. So he clears his throat and says something about the unintended consequences that might or might not follow choices that seem inconsequential at first. It’s a very typical spiel, just generic enough to seem wise and all-knowing, the kind of thing he offers when he has nothing else to say to students who look to him for guidance.

And still, you listen, and you have a look on your face like you’ve _finally got it_. He wonders if things will change this time around -- the sands of time have never been kind to him -- or if he’ll take his last breath with Flayn on the bloody cobblestone pathway in Enbarr once more.

He can never forgive you until you wake up in a new world—

Until he recognizes that glint in your eye like you don’t know any better. Because you don’t. And you wouldn’t. He knows the history of you in its entirety, and he knows there are three paths you can take now.

Three paths. _Three_.

Dimitri, Claude, Edelgard.

You take his hand and he feels yet another flutter in his stomach. "Seteth." Your voice cracks when you say his name and he finds he quite likes the sound of it in your mouth. "How much do you know?"

He holds his breath.

*

He tells you everything.

*

For a while, you just stand there, waiting. Waiting for an answer that’ll never come. And when the sun breaks over the horizon, a smile breaks wide on your face. “You been through a lot, haven’t you?” You say to him, and when he looks your way, he realizes you're smiling a tear-stained smile that looks utterly broken.

He steadies your shaking hands, holds them tight as the sun begins to peek up over the spires of the castle.

Without warning, you lean up and press a kiss to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," you tell him. "This is all I can give."

You blink in surprise when he leans in and kisses you back; and for a moment, as you run your fingers through his hair, as he feels you relent, he realizes he's melting into you, _too much, too fast._

He grabs you by the thighs to prop you up against the wall, closing his eyes and letting himself forget because this, _this_... _this is a night for letting go_.

*

But Seteth knows how this story goes. He knows what happens next. The sands of fate may shift, but it has only one path to go. It’s why he can’t stop you from killing Flayn, _why he can’t stop you from marching on this path covered in fire and blood_ , why he can’t save you. He can only tell you the truth, consul you from a distance, and hope for the best.

You do some things differently this time around: you spend more time with your students and perusing the shelves of the library at a leisurely pace, and you don’t attend Edelgard’s coronation, instead, focusing on your studies. “There’s work to be done—so much to learn that’s left unread,” you say to him, and for a while, he believes you, the knot in his stomach never quite ceasing its hold.

He doesn’t kiss you again, not until the day you make your choice; and he’s holding his breath when Edelgard comes up the pathway with her imperial troops. This can only go one way, he thinks, and when he brandishes his axe, he does so sparing a glance your way, _knowing_. Wondering if he can kill you first, but knowing he'll never follow through.

“Let's do this," you say.

But he sees you raise your blade and he realizes this is a timeline he doesn’t know.

*

You fight your way through battalion after battalion and Seteth keeps a firm gaze on your whereabouts from his vantage point in the sky. From what he can see, you're getting weary. Tired. Every strike you take is rougher than the next. You get a chip here, a hit there, and suddenly your breathing is haggard.

And then he recognizes it -- that _moment_. A beast hurtling towards you at lightspeed. There's nothing to defend you, nothing to protect you.

You're on the edge of the abyss, but you stop.

You look up to meet his gaze.

“We’ll meet again,” you mouth. “ _Promise._ "

And then you go, _there you fall_ \-- and he can't catch you in time as you crumble into the endless abyss of darkness.

*

Seteth waits five years for your return.

Five years watching the church fall to ruin. Five years of watching red imperial forces run amuck across Fodlan. Five years of waiting.

Five years of hoping.

He sneaks off to the roof, looking for something that’ll never come. No wyverns in the sky, no sign yet. “Not today,” he says, _feeling you somewhere far away_ , as dusk comes to carry him into the night. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Father?” Flayn comes up the roof, smiling. “Still waiting?”

“Suppose so,” he says, shimmying away from the edge to the smalldoor behind the stained-glass pillar. “Come, Flayn, we must make haste. No doubt we’ll have vagabonds and thieves waiting on the main road soon.”

“Yes, father.”

He takes one last look over his shoulder at the fields of Garreg Mach and--

\--there you are, crawling up the field with your sword heavy on your back.

He smiles.

"Or perhaps today."

**Author's Note:**

> TALK TO ME ABOUT SETETH ON [TWITTER!!!](%E2%80%9C)


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